


Red Strings of Fate

by bakers_impala221



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker, Bunker Fic, Destiel - Freeform, Fate, Human, LGBT, Love, M/M, Romance, Strings of Fate, Witchcraft, Writing Prompt, angel - Freeform, canon-divergent, canon-verse, potion, potion accident, prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-05 14:03:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21209765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakers_impala221/pseuds/bakers_impala221
Summary: When Dean accidentally spills the "truth potion" -or whatever the hell it was- all over himself, he doesn't quite know what to expect. What he does not expect, is the sudden appearance of red strings protruding from everyone's chests that somehow no one else has the ability to see. After some excessive digging with the help of Sam and Cas, the three of them finally figure out what he's seeing, when suddenly Dean comes to a realisation that he might not be able to just ignore.





	Red Strings of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For dear Abigail. Happy (very) belated birthday. Love you

When the sound of gunfire echoed through the dungeon, Dean breathed out a sigh of relief, dropping his outstretched arm to the floor. As he heard the heavy footfalls trotting up to meet him, he rolled over and let out a groan, clutching his forearm with his free hand.

Sam’s giant hand rested against his shoulder as he scanned his brother’s body for any major injuries, before halting as he eyed the pink liquid splashed across his body.

“What’s this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the light pink bubbles starting to form between the folds in his jacket.

“A bubble bath. What do you think?” Dean spat, groaning as he pushed himself up to sitting.

Sam looked up to the shelves around them; the rows of sketchy-looking potions lined up in various colours. Glancing again at the corpse of the witch, then back at Dean, Sam made to stand up, pulling his brother up with him. “Let’s sort this out back at home.”

When Sam finally managed to get the bunker door to swing open with a loud, unwelcoming creak, Dean hobbled in and made for his slow descent down the stairs.

With both his hands gripped tightly to the railing, he was greeted by the sound of eager footsteps rushing in from the kitchen which stopped abruptly when they got to the front room. Dean couldn’t help the smirk forming on his face when his friend’s deep voice travelled across the small space between them.

“How was the hunt?”

Dean smiled sarcastically. “Peachy,” he grunted, as he curled over the railing at the pain which sparked as a result.

Cas was quick to move forwards, a hand hovering by Dean’s shoulder cautiously. “What happened?” he asked.

Suddenly the bunker door swung shut and Sam blessed the room with his gigantic presence, three duffle bags hung heavily from his shoulders, and Dean thought he almost resembled some bizarre version of a Christmas tree. Dean curled over a little further, and vaguely noted the hand that landed on his shoulder in response. He felt a slight tingle rush through him.

“Witch,” he managed. “We were fighting ‘em, and then one knocked me back with one of their...’ he looked up into the space in front of him as he searched for words. “Moving spell,” he elaborated helpfully.

Cas shifted on the spot as he looked over at Sam.

Looking over at him, Dean continued, “Anyway, long story short: there was a bookshelf full of potions and one got knocked off. Glass broke and then I was covered in pink _froth _and bubbles like some friggin’ six year old.”

“Did you get a good look at the flask? Did it have any labeling or clues as to its substance?’ Cas inquired quickly.

Dean groaned as he doubled over again. “No,” he wheezed out. “I was a little preoccupi-”

He felt his entire chest rip open as though some giant blade had been stabbed through it. He gripped tighter to the railing as broken sounds he barely registered made their way out of his mouth.

Both Cas and Sam moved forwards to help him, the heavy duffle bags clanging to the floor loudly with a metallic bang as they were abandoned. Cas waved him off, gesturing to the duffles, and Sam got the hint, shouldering them and waiting patiently as Cas slowly helped Dean down the railing.

As Dean settled in the nearest chair, Cas spoke from above him.

“Where exactly does it hurt?” he asked.

Dean almost shrugged before deciding against the action. Instead, he looked down at himself. “Uhh… chest. It was my forearm at first though. But I’d just assumed it was the collision.” He withheld another groan as another flash of pain coursed through him.

Cas squinted thoughtfully. Just as Sam walked up to them, shoulders free and empty, he inquired. “Is there any specific side?”

Dean leaned forward and clutched the map table tightly. “Uh, the left,” he gritted out.

Sam shifted on his feet. Cas eyed him warily before turning back to Dean and asking carefully, “your heart?”

Dean winced and nodded, face downturned to the floor as he concentrated on his breathing. “It’s all around it though.”

Sam looked over at Cas. Then back at Dean. Then drifted across the floor to slide into the chair across from him. Coughing, he said, “Might it be something about, I don’t know… feelings?”

“_Feelings?” _Dean wheezed. “Yeah, there’s a hell of a lot of feelings here, Sam. It’s called pain,” he spat out.

Cas tensed slightly. “Actually,” he said. “Sam could be right.”

Dean laughed humourlessly, the sensation transforming into knife-cuts which travelled all the way up his spinal cord and ribcage. After a while, he finally managed to breath out, “You guys know feelings don’t _actually_ come from the heart, right?”

“Right,” said Sam. “But it could still be related.”

Cas agreed. “There are many cultured in which the heart is symbolic for emotions. Especially love-”

“Yeah, I’m really feeling the _love_ right now.”

“-well, perhaps it is a metaphor. And this may just be the metamorphic stage, too. We don’t know what to expect once the pain subsides.”

“Or,” Dean gritted out, “this _is _the process, and we’re all just sitting here wasting our time talking about _feelings_.”

“Perhaps,” said Cas, moving over to sit in the chair beside him. “But it seems unlikely that a witch would concoct a potion specifically aimed at chest pain.”

“And the forearm,” Dean reminded him.

Sam looked up. “So, heart attack?”

Cas frowned. “Dean, are you experiencing any cold sweat? Or dizziness? Nausea?” he offered.

Dean shook his head, looking on the verge of tears as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Then, it’s unlikely,” Cas replied.

He stopped for a moment, looking awkward. “Unless…” he looked over to Sam, and he seemed to tense in response. “Is there… anything else?”

Dean opened his eyes. “Like what?”

He stopped, looking inquiringly between them for answers before understanding dawned on him. “_No!_” he said. “That’s not… _No. _It’s not happening. I’m not some _masochist._”

Cas leaned forward. “Well, you wouldn’t have to be if it were a sympt-”

“_No_, we are not talking about this.”

A uncomfortable silence blanketed the room as the three of them sat thoughtfully around the table.

Just as the pain had ballooned again and Dean had begun to lose control over the wince threatening to pierce through the awkward quietness, Cas spoke instead. Dean shut his eyes briefly in relief.

“Well, we would just wait it out all night,” he offered.

“No offence to your wonderful plan,” Dean replied sarcastically, “But I ain’t falling asleep in this state any time soon.” He squeezed his eyes shut in pain as if to exemplify the point.

“Well, I could knock you out with my grace,” Cas offered helpfully.

Dean considered it for a moment; tempted. Then- “hold on… if you can knock me out, why can’t you just heal whatever it is that’s happening inside me?”

Cas seemed to almost blush. “Well, I, uh… I tried that earlier. On the stairs. It was ineffective.”

Dean made an O shape with his mouth. He nodded, “I just thought that was-”

He caught himself. Coughed and looked around at the two of them. Stuck for a moment, he finally finished off. “…the pain. I thought that was just some side effect.”

Cas frowned. “So it really didn’t do anything?” he asked.

Dean shook his head.

Sam coughed as he stood up, tearing the other two’s gazes from each other. “Well, let’s get you to your bed, then, shall we?”

The three of them hobbled down the hallway to Dean’s room, Sam awkwardly balancing several bags on one shoulder, while supporting Dean’s weight with the other. If he’d been less distracted by the unbearable agony, Dean might’ve actually been impressed with the balancing act. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

When they reached his bed, the other two slowly lowered him onto the mattress by his arms, and when his back finally hit the sheets, he almost couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

Before he could register anything else, there was a cold hand on his forehead, and the world went black.

Cas closed Dean’s door until it was ajar before looking up at Sam, who was waiting patiently for him to focus.

Sam shuffled a bit on his feet. “Someone’s oughta stay and watch him, right? Until he wakes up.”

Cas looked down the hallway to the library, then back at Sam. “I’ll do it.”

“Right. I’ll come back in a few hours for my shift.” He started in the direction of his bedroom, slapping Cas shoulder affectionately. “Thanks, man.”

Before he could get much further, Cas called out. “Wait, Sam.”

Waiting for him to turn around, he said thoughtfully. “You look tired. You should rest.” Before he could respond, Cas raised his eyebrows for emphasis; “_properly_.”

Seemingly on the verge of protest, Sam submitted, his entire body drooping in what appeared to be a mixture of exhaustion and relief. He smiled a little, and nodded gratefully, then trudged off.

Cas made his way down the hall into the library, selecting several books from the quiet shelves and returning to Dean’s room, his collection in his arms. He slipped quietly in, taking up residence in the chair by the corner, then settled in for the night.


End file.
